For You I'd Bleed Myself Dry
by Ros-Del
Summary: Steve/Bucky. Steve and Bucky have a talk before the attack on Hydra's train. Slash if you squint.


_Your skin, oh yeah, your skin and bones_

_Turn into something beautiful_

_Do you know, for you I'd bleed myself dry_

_For you I'd bleed myself dry_

* * *

Steve Rogers sat on the floor of his tent, several maps spread out around him in a disorderly array. There was a kerosene lamp burning at the edge of the tent, the only light at this time a night that would give him any sort of way to read the pages. His eyes were on the maps, but his mind wandered as he thought intensely about the plan for tomorrow. Though he wouldn't admit it to anyone, he was constantly questioning whether or not he was making the right decision. Take tonight, for instance. He and his team were camped out in tents at the bottom of a large mountain, waiting out until the first light of morning to climb the snowy slopes in order to get a shot at a train which was _rumored_ to be carrying Doctor Arnim Zola. They couldn't be positive that they would be able to catch the train, let alone that Dr. Zola would actually be on board. But they had been successful up until now, taking out several HYDRA bases. His men trusted him, and if they were to capture Zola, it could be a major step towards winning the war against Germany. They had risked so much getting here; health and safety, their lives – all for a chance.

After all, who could guarantee that Zola was on that train, that they would be able to capture him? Steve couldn't help but feel that if a single life was lost on this mission, it would have all been for nothing. Even if they caught Zola, he had let down one of his teammates, one of his _friends._ And he didn't know if that was something he could bare.

Suddenly there was a voice outside his tent, and Steve was forced out of his thoughts and back into the frigidly cold present. Even with long johns and his thick, brown leather jacket, he still felt the cold seeping into his bones.

"Steve?" Came the quiet voice from the other side of the flap. He knew immediately who it was. Not because he recognized the tone or the familiarity of the voice, but because the person addressed him as Steve. There was only one person who addressed him as Steve; the rest still called him Captain Rogers.

"Come in," he replied immediately, and the flap parted to reveal a pale Bucky Barnes, flakes of snow resting in his dark hair. Steve shifted over to give the other man room, collecting several of the maps and stacking them to his opposite side. Bucky took a seat beside him and crossed his arms tightly, evidently cold as well. The man didn't speak for a moment; his pale eyes simply glanced over the maps and the lamp before landing on Steve, a quiet somberness about his gaze.

"Are you ready for tomorrow?" He asked quietly, voice low. There wasn't a large amount of emotion in his voice, but Steve could read the apprehension in his gaze. Steve missed the light, cheery Bucky that he knew before the war – the one who always spoke his mind and gave Steve courage. Steve looked up to that Bucky. But now, it was as if roles were reversed. Bucky didn't show it when they were with the other men, but here, alone in the tent, _he_ was looking to _Steve_ for encouragement, waiting for a spark of bravery, a confidence that they were making the right decision.

Steve let out a bitter laugh, shaking his head. Bucky was the only person here who he could be honest with; he wasn't about to pass up that opportunity. "Honestly?" Steve questioned, uncertainty clouding his gaze. "I'm not. We're taking an awfully big risk, here, Bucky, and I'm just not prepared for when things go wrong."

Bucky's brow furrowed and he tilted his head, watching Steve carefully. "_When_ things go wrong?" He asked, before a light smile played at the edges of his mouth. "Is that what Captain America would say?" Steve's gaze immediately sharpened and he frowned.

"No," he replied quickly. "But it's what _I_ say." The smile immediately faded from Bucky's expression, his face falling stony again. He shook his head slowly, raising a hand to put it on Steve' shoulder reassuringly.

"Steve, we've taken out more HYDRA bases than I can count on two hands with you leading us. And we're all still here," he pointed out, some of the trepidation fading from his gaze. "This is the final step, and then we're home free. With Zola in our hands, we could win this thing."

"You've taken out those HYDRA bases with _Captain America_," he stressed, cold creeping into his gaze. "But would you say the same thing if I were that little guy from Brooklyn who was too dumb not to run away from a fight?" He quoted Bucky directly, a hint of bitterness entering his tone. Sometimes he felt he never got to be Steve anymore. Captain America was great, but would he ever truly be recognized as himself again?

Bucky's gaze hardened in turn, his hand dropping from Steve's shoulder, his arms crossing across his chest once again. "You _are_ that little guy from Brooklyn," he said quietly, a determined, serious look in his eyes. "I said that's who I was following, and I meant it," he added sternly, before taking a deep breath, his voice softening. "Captain America wouldn't be Captain America without you, Steve," he told him, eyes brightening a bit, a light smirk pulling at the edges of his mouth. "I certainly feel no need to jump after Captain America into the jaws of death."

Steve recognized a familiar spark in Bucky's gaze, a lightness that he wasn't accustomed to seeing recently. The other men trusted him as their leader, but Bucky trusted Steve with his _life_. "But you feel the need to jump after me?" Steve asked quietly, doubt still very present in his eyes.

Bucky's gaze grew serious again, a hardened determination darkening his eyes. "Absolutely," he replied, voice dangerously sincere. "It was Steve who rescued me from that HYDRA base, and it's Steve who I'll be standing beside when we win this thing."

A deep sadness entered Steve's eyes; he was daunted by the fact that Bucky had so much faith in him, that he trusted him so deeply. But hadn't he felt that once, too? Like Bucky could do no wrong, like he was a knight in shining armor? He had, and in fact, he still did. That was something that hadn't changed between them. No matter how badly either one screwed up, they were here for each other until the end, their fates forever intertwined. Because if there was one person he could honestly say he would die for, it was Bucky. And somehow he knew, given the chance, the other would do the same.

"Thank you," he finally said after a moment, sincerity lighting in his eyes. "You've never given up on me." Bucky shook his head with a laugh, clapping his hand to Steve's shoulder, features lightening once more.

"You haven't given up on me, either," he reminded Steve, giving him a nod. "That's why we're in this 'till the end." That was one thing Steve could count on: that they would always be together, fighting beside each other until they breathed the air of New York once more, when the memory of the war was just that – a memory. Bucky was his constant, the one who kept pushing him forward even when he didn't think he could take another step. And that's why he was his best friend.

"Until the end," Steve agreed, putting a firm hand on Bucky's shoulder in return. Tomorrow they would capture Dr. Zola, and together they would present him to the general. Side by side they would receive medals of honor, for finally putting an end to the war, and live the rest of their lives in fame. Captain America and his loyal teammate and friend, Bucky Barnes. Together, they would go down in history. Just as they had always planned.


End file.
